


Heart Fire

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-25
Updated: 2006-03-25
Packaged: 2019-02-02 08:25:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12723072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Questions, understanding, and promises in the night.





	Heart Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

Paul panted in the empty bed, listening to the sound of water runing in the bathroom.

Daniel hadn't been rough with him, though he'd been very demanding. Paul had thought to protest at the start, but, sensing the desperation in his lover's insistence, decided that 'letting go' was probably wiser than trying to stop the seduction entirely.

The meeting with Generals Hammond and Carter had taken longer than Paul expected and by the time he got out, he'd wondered whether it was worth coming over to Daniel's place.

He almost wished he hadn't.

The water stopped, the door opened, the bathroom light went out.

A moment later, the bed dipped and a damp cloth swiped neatly between Paul's buttocks and vanished into the darkness. Paul was about to roll over, when Daniel slipped in beside him, spooning up against his back.

It left Paul in something of a quandary.

On one hand, he felt...cheap. Whatever Daniel's issues, he'd taken them out on Paul and Paul resented being used - however good the sex. All the more because this was Daniel.

On the other hand...it was Daniel.

One arm curled around his waist, and a moment later, soft lips brushed his nape. "I'm sorry." Daniel rubbed his cheek against Paul's shoulder, the slight abrasion indicating that there was the faint start of bearded growth on the skin. "I shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay." The words fell easily - too easily - from Paul's lips. He tried not to let his emotions enter his voice, although the conflicts were there. How was he supposed to reconcile the man he loved with the lover who had ignored his requests and done as he'd wanted? Never mind that the ultimate result was enjoyment - Paul had been more than willing, but as he'd tried to mitigate his partner's desperation, Daniel brushed him aside, and he was swept up in his lover's need to exorcise whatever demon rode him.

"It's not," Daniel insisted.

The moment hung, delicately balanced, and after a moment Paul admitted. "No, it's not."

"I'm sorry." There was no doubting the contrition in Daniel's voice, but forgiveness was not as simple as words.

The sheets shifted, and for a moment, Paul feared Daniel would get out of the bed entirely, seeking distance from the evidence of his thoughtlessness.

"Daniel?"

"Yeah?" Planed cheeks raised up from Daniel's shoulder.

"Why?"

The answer was a long time coming.

First, there was a deep breath and a long, heaved sigh that sifted through the fine hairs at his nape. Then Daniel let go of Paul and rolled onto the other side of the bed. "I didn't want to do it in the first place, Paul."

It. The assassination of the Goa'uld System Lords. Or, more correctly, the assassination of the System Lords and their hosts. Paul turned over.

It might seem like a non-sequitur, coming from nowhere, going to nowhere, and meaning nothing more than a change of topic. By now, Paul thought he knew Daniel better - even if Daniel's earlier insistence hadn't been what he expected. So he remained quiet to let Daniel say his piece.

He was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with a distant expression on his face. Even as Paul watched, his hand came up to rest against his forehead, pressing down against the skin and bone - and perhaps the memories as well.

"When they told us the full plan at the Tok'ra base - that they were going to poison the symbiotes - all I could see was Sha're's face. And I thought...I thought that maybe someone had loved the host of the System Lord once. Maybe they'd been a husband or wife or lover... Jacob said that the hosts of the System Lords had been through the sarcophagus so many times that it didn't really matter anyway, but...they were still someone."

Yeah, Daniel would think of that. It had come up before - in SG-1's past, in Paul's interaction with Daniel, in the conversations of the last couple of weeks. Daniel wasn't military, didn't understand how Jack and Sam - and by extension, Paul - could sometimes be so 'callous' when they made their decisions.

Paul had learned to live with that kind of prejudice in his brother. James loathed the military and never let Paul forget it. It made family reunions difficult, but Paul was just as stubborn as his brother.

Daniel didn't loathe the military - he'd never have been working on the Air Force payroll or made friends with the people in the SGC otherwise - but he couldn't comprehend why they did what they did. If there was one thing beyond Daniel Jackson's ability to comprehend, it was the military mentality.

"Why didn't you refuse to do it then?"

His answer was a deep sigh. "Because there was nobody else to do the job. And because this was our best chance to hit the Goa'uld in a way that might set them back for decades." There was a pained note in Daniel's voice, "The Tok'ra have been trying to subvert the Goa'uld for thousands of years and never had much success. This was their best chance. Our best chance."

"And so you took the job."

"And so I took the job." Daniel turned on his side, tucking his near hand under his cheek, and reaching out with the other. Paul's own hand met his halfway between them. "I feel dirty." Such a soft admission. Such a reluctant one.

And maybe - just maybe - Daniel was beginning to understand the kinds of choices commanders like Hammond and Jack O'Neill were forced to make day by day. Ones that left them fighting the darkness in their own selves and struggling to justify their actions. "You did what had to be done." It was a cold cliché when all was said and done, but it was what Paul used to remind himself that just because he didn't like what he did, didn't mean that it didn't have to be done.

But Daniel wasn't Paul - not by a long shot. "Does that make it right?"

Ah yes, Daniel and his need to be right. To be right in even the smallest actions. It was both a blessing and a curse.

"No. But it makes it necessary." He reined in his irritation with his lover's inability to comprehend his point of view. "Daniel..."

"Paul." Fingers tightened around his and the blue eyes shut tightly. "I know. It had to be done - and I was the only one who could do it..."

"But?"

"I didn't want to do it! And they didn't make me - but I could feel the responsibility on me. So many lives at stake - and all I had to do was get my hands dirty." The 'all' was the troubling part of Daniel, of course. It wasn't something he'd have done when Paul first met him - in fact, even six months ago, Paul doubted Daniel would have taken such a commission. But now, with the SGC's allies dwindling and the fight against the Goa'uld seemingly neverending, one key action could have taken out the core of the Goa'uld leadership - if it hadn't been for Anubis.

A twig can be the key to stemming the river's flow.

"Does it get easier?" The question was an unexpected plea and put Paul in the spotlight. He raised his gaze from the bed to meet the penetrating blue eyes. "Do you get used to it after a while? Doing...things that you don't want to do but which have to be done?"

"Sometimes." Paul had only been in such a position once or twice. "You're asking the wrong person, Daniel," he said gently.

"You're military."

Paul struggled not to grind his teeth in frustration. After six years working with Jack and Sam, Daniel hadn't picked up the differences between their job and Paul's?

It hurt a little, but he kept his voice even. "I'm a liaison, Daniel - not a commander." Which was probably the reason why Daniel and Paul hadn't yet really clashed. Paul's job as a liaison between the scientific and military branches of the Air Force - the Pentagon and the SGC - meant he was the one carrying orders, not giving them. He wasn't the one making the tough decisions and watching his people die as a result.

And Paul thanked whatever God or gods ruled or didn't rule his existence for that small favour.

"Maybe you should ask Jack."

Daniel snorted. "Jack... Jack wouldn't understand why I was asking any more than he understands my work." There was resignation there, a peculiar kind of acceptance. Daniel didn't understand Jack O'Neill, and Paul was fairly sure that Jack O'Neill didn't understand Daniel either. But they worked around that where they could and where they couldn't, they endured.

They lapsed into quiet, neither man willing to break the peaceful silence. 

And Paul let his thoughts out to run.

He knew that things had been heading towards this for some time. Since he and Daniel only saw each other on the weekends when Daniel wasn't offworld with SG-1, there had been a fair few nights to think over his relationship with the SGC's pre-eminent archaeologist.

And what he saw - and felt - worried him. 

He'd never had time for a lover before. His sexual liaisons had been brief encounters, rarely met again, and he'd been content enough. A certain detachment surrounded him and he was more than content to live that way.

This relationship had changed things.

It wasn't like being in love. There were no thrills at the sound of the phone, no wet dreams in his sleep, no lunchbreak spent daydreaming about his lover. Paul had been through that emotional rollercoaster before.

No, what he was experiencing was very different and much more disquieting.

He loved Daniel.

Not the warm, fuzzy emotions - although that was a small part of it - but a sense of loyalty, of belonging to someone. Of belonging to Daniel, even if Daniel didn't think of the relationship that way. As yet, he'd never dared to bring up the topic - afraid of the rejection he might face. They'd made no promises, said no words. It was safer to maintain the status quo - enjoy the company, the intimacy and the sex, leaving emotions out of the equation.

Paul had been through this before, but not in the last seven years. Not since he began his work at the Pentagon on the Stargate project. Secrets destroyed relationships - and the brief liaisons Paul indulged in from time to time had all broken up on the rocks of his classified work.

At least with Daniel, that wasn't an issue. But there were still the differences in their perspective that had to be overcome. Daniel saw things from one point of view - and it was a valuable point of view, and necessary. But Paul - like Jack, and probably even Sam - saw things very differently to Daniel.

He didn't always understand Daniel. And he was pretty sure Daniel didn't always get him, either.

"I don't always understand you, either." 

The comment, so exactly echoing Paul's thoughts a moment earlier - turned the conversation personal between them.

More personal than Paul wanted. It was one thing to think such things, quite another to voice them out loud. 

He climbed out of the bed, using the cool of the night to give him space. Cotton briefs covered his nudity, and the world on the other side of the window gave him something to focus on. The deep blue midnight landscape 

"Paul?" The sheets rustled as the shadowy form that was Daniel sat up in the bed.

"Yeah."

"Talk to me."

Paul's words choked up in his throat and it took a moment to get them out, but when he did, he made them calm and detached. "I don't know if I can, Daniel."

"Try." When Paul still said nothing - unable to think of anything to say, Daniel asked, "What do you think of us?"

"Us?"

"This relationship."

It wasn't in him to be open about 'this'. "It's...nice."

"Damned with faint praise."

Paul interrupted that train of thought before Daniel could take it the wrong way. "I'm not like you, Daniel. I don't...have your gift of the gab."

"You're a diplomat."

"And you're an archaeologist. But you deal in ancient cultures and I deal in modern politics." He knew he was being too logical about this. Paul felt things emotionally, but he looked at things logically and rationally. He had to - that was part of his task as a diplomat. "Daniel, I like this. What we have going here."

"So don't rock the boat?" There was no disguising the bitterness in Daniel's voice. "I've lost the people I care about more times than I want to remember, Paul. Sha're. Sarah. Shifu."

"I'm seeing a pattern in the names," Paul said lightly, and was immediately sorry for the joke. Bad timing. "Sorry," he muttered. Then, a little louder, more confident, "You won't lose me that way."

"No," Daniel said quietly.

For a moment it seemed like the conversation was at an end, before Daniel rose from the bed, crossing the room to stand beside Paul, looking at him by the faint glow of the night outside.

"I don't always understand you." The words were slow and hesitant. "Maybe it's a military vs. civilian thing - like me and Jack. But it doesn't really matter that I don't understand Jack."

Paul turned his head and met shadowed blue eyes, "I am who and what I am, Daniel." Which was his way of saying that he loved Daniel, but Paul wouldn't sacrifice who he was for Daniel.

And he waited for the response.

"I know." It was an answer to the obvious statement, but not one to the subtler undertones in what Paul had been saying. Then Daniel sighed. "Most of the time...this is enough."

"Enough?"

"More than enough." Warm fingers caressed Paul's shoulder blade and stroked down his back. "I..." Daniel took his hand and turned away from the window. "Come back to bed."

Paul resisted the gentle tug against his fingers, the encouragement to follow Daniel to the bed and forget about questions of emotion and care. Instead, he pulled his lover back to face him, seeing the fears flare in shadowed blue eyes. There was a time to speak out and a time to be silent. For better or worse, Paul chose to speak out. After this last mission, he didn't want to leave this unsaid - even if Daniel rejected the soul of it. He owed Daniel that much. He owed himself that much. "Daniel..." He hesitated about how to say what he wanted to say. The boundaries that contained him were as much a part of him as the thoughts within, to remove them would have made him someone else; and this admission had to be made in his own words, as he would. "Daniel," he said, very gently, "this isn't just about sex anymore."

It was a terrifying moment; more so than the acceptance of that first invite to drinks, more than the moment out in the parking lot, more than the first time they met after that night in the hotel room.

The truth, the whole truth, and nothing more than the truth.

And rejection so close and so possible.

He saw the flash of understanding in the blue eyes, and felt the fear strike him hard and sharp in his chest as Daniel looked away and swallowed. And then Daniel looked back, and there was the shadow of a smile on his face, hovering about his mouth and softening his eyes.

And the hope quivering in his chest eased the sharpness of the pain, a flood of relief that Paul wasn't the only one to care more than they probably should.

"No," Daniel said steadily. "It's not." His fingers brushed Paul's cheekbone, curving into the plane of the cheek. "Why do you think it bothers me when I don't understand you?"

Slowly, hesitatingly, they stood there, both awkward and comfortable, until Paul wrapped his arms around Daniel and felt the answering embrace of his lover.

They stood like that for a while, in voiceless communion and silent thankfulness for similarities and differences and something that could transcend them without ignoring or dismissing what made them individual and interesting.

But at last Paul shifted a little. "You know, it's not absolutely necessary that you understand me."

"I know. But...it makes things easier."

Paul turned his face a little so his voice was muffled behind Daniel's ear. "Personally, I'd prefer that things got harder," he said with a smile in his voice as he rubbed his hips lightly against Daniel's groin.

He was rewarded with a hand grabbing his ass and the beautiful, splintering sensation of friction against his growing hard-on. "Harder can be done," Daniel murmured into his throat, sending fiery trails of anticipation spiralling through him. 

They took it back to the bed, losing themselves in each other, using physical intimacy to say what their voices wouldn't. Paul had always thought that the curves of a woman were the epitome of sensual beauty, but he found the harsh planes of another man's toned body intensely erotic. Other men would disagree - that was their right and choice.

This was Paul's.

Their voices mingled in request and answer, in demand and provision, in ecstasy and adoration. 

But when he moved to disentangle himself from the confusion of limbs and sheets they found themselves in afterwards, Daniel's fingers tightened on his arms. "Don't."

Paul relaxed back down into the sheets and felt warm arms close around him. "Daniel?" 

Silence stretched out, eking its meagre lengths over the room, the bed, and the two men entangled in each other. "I don't want to lose you, too, Paul."

Still the fear haunted his lover, too much loss taking its private toll, even if the public man kept going. And maybe Daniel had always done that, and maybe he'd learned it from his teammates. From the sarcastic jokery of Colonel O'Neill, to Teal'c's stoic demeanour that concealed a thousand crimes and hurts beneath it. Even Sam's brisk behaviour when things were tight hid her fears of failure and loss - or so Paul suspected.

In Daniel's case, it was a groundless fear.

"You won't." Paul told him, trying to be gentle but feeling the imbalance of situation between them. "If anything, I'm more likely to lose you, given what you do."

The thought gave him no joy. Daniel and SG-1 - hell, every member of an SG team - went through the Stargate day after day, fighting an uncertain war, and pledging their lives to each other and to the safety of Earth and her allies. And while they kept Earth safe in their alliances and their treaties, people like General Hammond and Paul worked to protect them from the politics of a project like the SGC.

Paul was perfectly safe on Earth.

Daniel wasn't safe going through the Stargate.

That last mission, more than anything else, was a clear reminder of that.

"You won't lose me," Daniel responded, echoing Paul's earlier words.

"You can't promise that."

"No." A mouth traced his collarbone, the touch comforting rather than sexual. "I can't. But I'm here - for as long as I'm around and you're willing to have me."

And in the end, that was the only promise that could be made and held.

And Paul clung to that knowledge and his lover in the dark.


End file.
